


With Bones Like That

by torakowalski



Series: Skin Deep [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Genderswap, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-27
Updated: 2008-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I'm Dr Rodney McKay," she said slowly. "We were at Berkeley together. You majored in mechanical engineering because you're an idiot who wanted to go to war rather than use your brain for something worthwhile. I'm Rodney McKay with breasts, okay? It's not that hard to grasp."</i> - AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Bones Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mcshep_match 2008. Title from The Fratellis' Chelsea Dagger.
> 
> Thanks to janne for attacking my semi-colons and overall awesome beta-age, and to Nat for being willing to walk down the street with me debating gender pronouns.

It was just past 22:00 when John’s house phone started ringing. He made a grab for it. “Hello?” he said, trying to sound like he hadn’t just woken up.

“John Sheppard?” The line was crap, static and too quiet and it was hard to make out words. He hoped the problem wasn't on his end; there was no way his landlord would put in a new phoneline. “Hello? This is Rodney McKay.”

Jesus Christ. John blinked uselessly at the place on the wall beside his bed where the last remaining scrap of wallpaper was clinging on for life. “_Rodney_?”

“Yes. Yes,” came the reply. “This phone is devouring my coins like a hungry Wrai- well, like a life-sucking vampire; let’s not waste time repeating each other’s names. Can you meet me at the airport?”

John’s brain was a little foggy. Possibly because he was half asleep and someone he hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years was waking him up and making demands. “You’re in San Francisco?”

“No, no, I just thought it would be fun to telephone you after all these years and ask you hypothetical questions. Now hurry up, the guy behind me in the line keeps touching my ass.”

He hung up.

“Huh,” John said to his receiver. “Huh,” he said again when the recorded lady came on the line and told him to hang the hell up. It looked like Rodney hadn’t changed at all.

They’d been close in college, or at least as close as two socially awkward guys could be, had even managed to stay in touch afterwards, at least until Rodney got spirited away to some top secret science thing and stopped answering John’s calls. 

John spent a minute wondering how Rodney had found him then dismissed it; Rodney McKay had always had ways. The important thing was that they’d been friends, good friends, and that was what John kept repeating to himself as he dragged his ass into his car and his car out into the muggy Californian night.

***

San Francisco airport was weird in the middle of the night: brightly lit and crowded like a little pocket of daytime. John scratched his chin, wishing he’d shaved that evening, and looked around for Rodney. 

His first look around didn’t show him Rodney McKay, or anyone who could be Rodney McKay plus some years, so he started peering more closely at the people folded into painful-looking plastic seats. Everyone looked grouchy and tired, which made Rodney harder to spot.

A lady in a heavy brown coat was squinting at him. He looked down quickly to check he _had_ put on pants like he’d meant to then dismissed her from his mind.

His second look around wasn’t any more productive. Then he saw the lady was waving at him. Confused, John stepped closer to her, expecting her to realise she had the wrong guy and stop with the waving. Instead, she bounced up out of her seat. “Well, there you are,” she said and the tone and accent if not the voice were familiar.

“Ma’am?” John asked; she was kind of familiar actually, especially given the circumstances. “Jeannie?”

The woman squawked. “Oh my God, I do not look like Jeannie. Do I? Tell me I don’t.”

John blinked. There was no way, just no possible way. Except- “_Rodney_?” he asked incredulously, even as his brain was telling him not Rodney, of course not Rodney.

The woman twitched slightly. She had short, dirty blonde hair, big blue eyes, a generous figure hidden under baggy clothes and even in flat shoes she was nearly as tall as John; really, she _could_ be Rodney. If only that wasn't impossible.

“Took you long enough,” was all she said, frowning at John. “I almost had to resort to conversation with some of these… people.” She cast a disgusted look at the other stranded travellers. John looked around too, hoping he’d see Rodney, the Rodney he remembered, come striding up, all bluster and energy like always. Fingers clicked in front of his face. “Come on, come on. Afghanistan didn’t turn you into a moron, did it?”

John shook his head to clear it. “Rodney?” he repeated, hoping this was some kind of dream.

The air seemed to deflate out of the woman all at once. “Yes,” she said, but it was less snappy and more resigned than John was expecting. “Can we talk about this somewhere that isn’t here?”

“Sure,” he drawled, because he’d long ago discovered that when the crazy started it was easier to go along with it. “Car’s this way.”

An expression that might have been happiness, might have been relief, crossed her face for a moment. Then: “Oh,” she said, picking up a wire basket she’d been standing in front of. “I have a cat.”

John sighed, reaching out to take the basket automatically. She frowned for a second then passed it over. “Of course you do.”

***

They walked out to the car in silence and that was one point against this being Rodney: John didn't remember Rodney ever being silent. He'd never even breathed silently. 

"Here," John said, indicating his car. It was illegally parked which was dumb with a capital D. Paying any kind of fine right now would be a total bitch to his budget.

"Right," the woman who wasn't Rodney said. She put her bags in the back and climbed awkwardly into the passenger seat still holding the cat's carrier. The cat meowed crossly and she glared at it. "Oh, what? Would you rather have stayed in Colorado? Gotten poked and prodded more and-." She stopped, looking up like she'd just realised that John was still standing there.

It was fair enough, _John_ had just realised that John was still standing there too. Holding her door open like an idiot. Right. 

"What's with the car?" she asked when John got in his side of the car. He decided against starting the engine yet. "I would have expected you to have something a bit more boy racer by now. You must be nearing midlife crisis."

John frowned, glancing over at her. This wasn't Rodney; this was just someone who did a good impression of his blunt, tactless method of conversation. 

“It’s a good car,” John said easily.

Time passed and she didn’t say anything else. John was starting to get uncomfortable. Confused and uncomfortable. 

John fidgeted, trying to think of the best way to start a conversation like this. “So you’ve changed. Have you done something to your… penis?” Wow. That was definitely _not_ the best way to start it. 

Rodney - Rodney? - flapped a hand at him. “Very funny, Major is it still?”

It took some effort, but John didn't flinch. “Not exactly,” John said shortly. And he thought he’d gotten good at sounding neutral about it, but apparently not, judging by the frown that popped up between the eyes of the woman that was claiming to be Rodney. 

"Do you have a name?" he asked. "I mean even if you are-" He waved a hand. This couldn't be Rodney. "Do you have a new name?"

She frowned. “Why would I?”

“I’m sorry, is that wrong?" John rubbed the back of his neck. "I’ve just never met anyone like you.”

“Like me?” she repeated, looking blank.

“Yeah, you know.” John waved a hand up and down her body. “Anyone who’s had – that – done to them. Not that it isn’t great.” He added lamely in the face of her continued silence.

Her eyes bugged out. "Oh my God, I have not had gender reassignment surgery. I-" She clamped her mouth down hard.

"What?" John asked slowly. "You just woke up one day and it was gone?"

She made as if to fold her arms over her chest then stopped and flailed her hands around a bit instead. "It was mid afternoon actually and. No, look, I can’t tell you anything, okay?”

“Right,” John said slowly. He scratched his chin then his head. He was exhausted and this was too much for him to take in. “No actually, that’s really not okay. You want me to believe you’re Rodney, you’ve got to give me something.” So sue him, John wasn’t exactly given to trusting people.

She clapped a hand to her head like she was surrounded by idiots and that was a familiar gesture, even though John didn’t want to admit it. “I’m Dr Rodney McKay,” she said slowly. “We were at Berkeley together. You majored in mechanical engineering because you’re an idiot who wanted to go to war rather than use your brain for something worthwhile. I’m Rodney McKay with breasts, okay? It’s not that hard to grasp."

John gaped at him. “Not that hard to- _Fuck_.”

Her… his… Rodney’s head snapped up, eyes hooded, uncertain, almost shy and that was enough (nearly enough) to convince John that this wasn't Rodney, couldn't be Rodney, except then the person beside him tipped her head up, just a little, watching him through huge, guileless blue eyes and Jesus Christ but John _knew_those eyes.

"Rodney," he said and it wasn't a question, even while his head spun and his voice maybe (probably) went up a couple octaves.

"Yes," Rodney said. He sounded firm, certain, but John thought he could catch an undercurrent of relief there too. He reached over as if to touch John’s arm then changed his mind. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I can't tell you, I really honestly am, but I _can't_. Just something happened, okay, and I’m not being allowed to work on fixing it so I'm stuck here waiting for imbeciles to find a solution that I’m sure I would be able to find in half the time, and you’re the only person I know here who I like enough to spend time with and I need a place to stay for a few days. Yes or no?”

John took a breath. Then another. This was... different, but he'd been to war, he'd seen weirder shit. "Yes," he said because it was, God, so much safer than _You've no idea how much I missed you_.

***

At John’s apartment, Rodney stared around like John had just shown him his private torture chamber.

“What _happened_?” Rodney asked, voice breaking slightly. He turned back around. “John?”

John shrugged. It wasn't that bad. Nothing a lick of paint, some new walls, a couple hundred square feet and a new location couldn't fix. “Nothing. Dishonourable discharge. No pension or shit. I reckon I’m doing pretty good.”

“I had no idea,” Rodney said quietly and he looked sad, shocked, wide open in that way Rodney always got when one of his friends was hurting; John had never understood the people who’d called Rodney selfish.

He cleared his throat. "I don't have a guest room but my bed's pretty comfortable and... What?"

Rodney was glaring. Kind of hard. "Sorry to disabuse you, Casanova, but just because I'm vaguely female-shaped and in some measure of need does not mean I'm going to fall into bed with you or-"

"Whoa," John said, holding up his hands and talking over Rodney's ranting. "Whoa. I'll be taking the couch, McKay."

Rodney blinked. Then blinked again. "Oh. Why?"

It was John's turn to blink. Rodney couldn’t mean that how it sounded. 

"I mean," Rodney continued, waving a hand around. "If you're offering me your bed because I'm clearly more deserving of it then I'll gladly accept it as my due. But I'm finding myself strangely reluctant to accept if you're only offering it because I'm currently in possession of breasts."

John bit his lip against a smile. "I'm offering you a bed because you're a pain in the ass when you don't sleep well." And God, but it was weird to have these memories of Rodney that weren’t of _this_ Rodney. He tried not to think about how weird it was to have memories of anyone at all that weren’t bad.

"Oh," Rodney said. He swung his arms. "Well. Thank you then."

John rolled his eyes. "Sure thing, Rodney."

***

John was kind of impressed to discover than he had a clean set of sheets. By the time he'd put them on (then stripped them off and remade the bed. The fucking corners were too neat the first time and some habits were hard to break and jarring to see), Rodney's stuff seemed to have exploded all over the living room and the cat was prowling around, sniffing nervously at corners then leaping back for no reason that John could tell. Cats were weird.

“What’s his name?” John asked Rodney who was sitting on the sofa, looking around with eyes almost as wide and lost as his cat's. 

“Carson,” Rodney said absently. Then looked up at John, looking a little wild around the eyes. “He’s, uh, Scottish.” 

“Uh huh,” John said, because he still had some pathetic hope that this was actually the world’s strangest dream.

They stood for a minute looking each other. John had no idea what to say. He had questions, he _definitely_ had questions, but he didn't have the words to ask them. Besides, he was a big believer in letting people tell their own stories at their own pace; if Rodney wasn't ready to tell him anything yet then John was okay with not knowing.

He was pretty damn curious though.

“Can I use your shower?” Rodney asked and John could only agree.

***

John waited for Rodney to come out of the bathroom then waited some more. 

He and the cat watched some Law and Order, then some CSI and still Rodney hadn't emerged. 

It had been over an hour by the time Carson the cat bumped against his ankles and meowed; it was the most attention he'd given John so far. 

"Yeah," John agreed and knocked on the bathroom door. 

"What?" Rodney's voice said. He sounded shaky. 

John tried the door handle then tried again after he heard a click from the other side.

Rodney was standing in front of the fogged up mirror, pants and bra on, staring blankly at his reflection. John's eyes automatically tracked down to his chest (they were good breasts, really convincing) but only for a second because he wasn't a sleaze and Rodney looked on the brink of tears. 

“Hey, Rodney? Buddy?”

Rodney took one shuddering breath and swiped roughly at his eyes. “Stupid hormones,” he said, sounding embarrassed.

John crossed the bathroom to stand behind him. His hands fluttered uselessly over Rodney’s shoulders for a second before he sucked it up and curled them around Rodney’s upper arms, rubbing them in what he hoped was a soothing way.

Rodney sighed and relaxed into him, just a little. “It’s just so fucked up, you know?”

“Yeah,” John said, though he didn’t know, not even a little bit, but he did know about fucked up in the more general sense.

Rodney turned around and somehow John’s arms ended up around his back. There was a lot of smooth, warm skin pressed up against John's chest but this didn’t feel even a little erotic. He looked up at John with his huge blue eyes and quirked a tiny smile. “I know you think I’m crazy, but I really didn’t ask for this to happen to me. You- you don’t have to believe me, but I’d really like it if you did.”

And it was crazy and made no sense based on anything John had ever thought he knew, but yeah, he’d always trusted Rodney, he could do it now.

“I believe you,” he said and was surprised to find he at least 85% meant it.

Rodney’s smile, when it came, was bright and shocked and relieved, and upped John’s belief another 14.9%.

They stood there a while longer, John idly stroking his thumbs over the ridges of Rodney’s shoulder blades until a breeze blew in from the hall and Rodney shivered.

"I think I'll go to bed," Rodney said. He dropped his hands and put them on his hips, fingers tapping out a soft rhythm just below his beltloops. It wasn't John's fault that his eyes automatically went there. 

"Right," John agreed easily, following him out into the apartment. "Do you-?" he started to ask then stopped when he realised that he didn't have an end to that sentence. 

"Yeah," Rodney said anyway and turned away. He stopped in the doorway. "Coming?" he called back over his shoulder and John's heart stopped. "Carson?" Rodney added and oh. Right. Of course.

The cat crawled out from under the sofa, ass first and covered in dust. It flicked its ears crossly, stumbling around in an awkward circle until it was facing Rodney.

Rodney rolled his eyes but his smile was fond. "Good night, John," he said, holding the bedroom door open for the cat then closing it firmly behind them.

"Good night," John called anyway.

***

Sleeping on the sofa was hell on John’s back, and it took him twice as long as usual to get showered and dressed. It was damn depressing the way his knees hated him these days.

When John finally dragged himself into the living room, Rodney was sitting on the sofa, with a laptop that John didn’t own, connected to wireless that John sure as hell hadn’t paid for.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Rodney asked, without looking up. He sounded morning-grumpy and annoyed and John shouldn’t find it sweet but he did, especially when he took in the way Rodney was huddled up in a too-large sweatshirt that almost hid the fact that he had girl parts now. John wanted to protect him, it was confusing.

John shook his head even though Rodney couldn't see. "It's Sunday."

"Oh," Rodney said and again he looked lost, just for one beat, maybe two. "Oh."

John was tempted to let it slide, but, "You okay, buddy?" he asked.

Rodney shook his head. "Nothing. Just where I'm from... where I work, we're not so much for days off. I'd forgotten, I suppose."

"Right," John said firmly. "Well I'm pretty big on them, so." He toed the cat out of his way. "Breakfast?"

***

They went out for Starbucks because Rodney's eyes lit up at the mention of it. It was still early and there weren’t many people on the streets, but Rodney still stayed pressed close to John as they made their way down the street and that was strange too because Rodney's always been supremely confident of his right to occupy any space. John couldn't help feeling a little sad, a little worried, because whatever Rodney had been through, whatever had led him to the place he was now, he clearly wasn’t happy with it, was clearly uncomfortable in this place and this body. 

John bumped their shoulders together and hoped that helped. 

Rodney stopped short when they reached the counter in Starbucks, staring up at the menu with amazed, greedy eyes like he hadn't seen it for a million years. 

“What’s the matter, McKay?” John asked. “They don’t have coffee wherever you live?”

"Oh," Rodney said, colouring. "Russia. I was in Russia for a while." 

Huh. "Yeah me too," John told him. He didn't mention that they had Starbucks there for sure, because he wasn't an asshole and Rodney was looking happier.

***

So John’s weekend was pretty freaky but, come Monday, he still had to go to work.

“Hey, Shep,” Steve said, slapping him on the back. Steve always slapped John on the back and John always hated it. “Tattle is you’ve gotten yourself a woman.”

John choked on cold, bitter coffee; some of it went over the hood of the Cadillac beauty he was working on and he winced, mentally apologising to her. “Where’d you hear that?” he asked, keeping his voice easy, because it was a better idea than saying _No, that’s a guy I know from way back. Apparently he accidentally turned into a woman somehow_.

“Bob saw you out with her yesterday, said she was hot.”

John smiled at that, tried not to look casually smug rather than as gleeful as he was feeling; he wondered what Steve and Bob would do if they found out that his hot woman used to be a hot man. Mentally, John blinked, he hadn’t thought of Rodney (male Rodney) as hot for years, he hadn’t let himself. 

“She’s just a friend,” he told Steve. “From school.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, “From that fancy-ass place you went to?”

“Berkeley,” John said easily.

Steve laughed. “Doin’ you a lotta good here,” he said, slapped John on the back again and sauntered off.

John flipped him off behind his back and went back to cleaning the car. The spot where the coffee had landed was about two shades lighter than the rest of her when he rubbed his cloth over it, clean in a way he hadn’t thought he’d be able to get her, and John smiled. Finally a use for the crappy coffee Steve always brewed.

  
***

There was a pizza place two blocks down from his apartment that sold the best pizzas in the whole of California. Getting them for one always seemed kind of pathetic, but John could justify it to himself today because for once he wasn’t going home to an empty apartment. He tried not to be just a tiny bit excited about that but largely failed. He wasn't the world's most sociable person, but there was a limit on silence, even for him.

The TV was on when John got home but there was no sign of Rodney. John dropped the pizza boxes on the counter and crossed over to the bedroom. The door was just ajar and John stopped in the doorway, frowning. Rodney seemed to be talking to someone. 

“So unfair,” he was saying. “He’s gotten hotter since I last saw him, _hotter_, that shouldn’t be allowed. And now I’m a woman, even, but I still can’t… I don’t know how to make him… this body makes no sense to me.”

John peeked around the doorframe. He couldn’t see anyone but Rodney, well Rodney and the cat and huh, yeah, okay. Looked like Rodney was having a heart-to-heart with his cat.

“And don’t look at me like that,” Rodney was saying (to the _cat_). “Do you know how many times I had to sit around listening to you whine on about Cadman? Laura this, Laura that. Sickening.” All of a sudden the rant seemed to shift from the cat to the ceiling; John wondered what it had done to offend Rodney. “When I die, you better fucking ascend me; I’ve _earned_ it by now.”

"Rodney?" John asked carefully. He didn't think Rodney was a crazy person, but all signs were pointing to maybe.

Rodney swung around with wide, startled eyes and a flushed, guilty expression. "I'm, uh."

"I got pizza," John interrupted and Rodney’s look of relief was almost funny.

***

They spent the evening on the sofa watching Red Dwarf. Rodney was still hidden under thick, shapeless layers but he'd unbent a little, his forearm and thigh pressed against John's. Rodney's other hand was buried in the cat's fur; his breath coming slow and relaxed in time with the cat’s purrs. 

John didn't mean to be watching him, didn't even realise that he was until the cat suddenly meowed loudly and flopped over into Rodney's lap, nuzzling. Rodney's hand stilled for a second and then the cat leapt away, yowling, almost as if he'd realised what he was doing and thought better of it. 

"The hell?" John asked but Rodney just laughed, dropping his head back onto the sofa and sniggering until John couldn't help but smile too, even if he didn't really get what was so funny. It was just nice to hear Rodney's laugh. 

***

At work the next day, John was half way inside the engine of the 911 that had just come in when Steve smacked him around the head with something hard.

Ow. John stood up. "Yeah?"

Steve waggled the office cordless phone in front of John's face. "It's your girl."

"My-?" Oh right. He grabbed the phone. "Hi?" 

"Sheppard," Rodney's voice came through loud and clear. "I was bored out of my skull today and I bought clothes. Girls' clothes. From a store. You're taking me out to dinner so that I have a reason for owning them."

John laughed, he couldn't help it. "You asking me on a date, McKay?"

There was a pause and John had just enough time to contemplate sinking through the floor before Rodney said, "Yes. Yes I am."

Oh.

***

The clothes Rodney had bought weren't exactly what John would consider fancy dining wear. Just some tighter jeans and a light, long-sleeved pullover that actually fit. But he looked good, he looked... wow, he really looked like a woman.

Dinner was good but Rodney stopped him when John went to pay for them both.

"I have a purse now," Rodney told him seriously. "I can beat you to death with it. This was my idea; I'm paying."

John held up his hands peaceably. "Sure thing, Rodney. I'm all for gender equality."

He got hit with the purse.

They walked back to John's apartment instead of taking a cable car because it wasn't far, because the night was warm, because of whatever one of John's excuses it was that finally convinced Rodney, but really because Rodney was getting looser, more relaxed, fitting into his body and John wanted to savour it, didn't want to run the risk of it disappearing when they got home.

Mrs Bragg was collecting her mail in the entryway when they came in. She raised her head and smiled at John and he nodded politely back, surreptitiously putting his hand on the small of Rodney's back to hurry him inside; Mrs Bragg was nice enough but God did she talk. 

“Was she staring at me?" Rodney asked, probably before they were totally out of earshot. "Do I look weird or something?”

“No, you look gr- fine. You look fine, McKay. She was probably just surprised to see me bring someone home.”

Rodney scoffed. “Right, because you’ve always had so much trouble picking up women.”

John unlocked the door and headed towards the living room, kind of embarrassed. It was his own fault Rodney thought he was some sort of West Coast Casanova – he was the one who’d invented girlfriends for himself over the years, whenever Rodney had called. And no, he didn’t want to look too closely at why he’d done that.

"There haven't," he found himself saying. "There haven't been any women, Rodney. There isn't anyone." _I don't have anyone anywhere._

Rodney stared at him, head titled to one side, frowning. "But you're hot," he said. His eyes went wide. "I mean, objectively. As a person in temporary possession of a woman's insight, I can tell you that you're hot. Objectively."

"Objectively?" John repeated.

Rodney nodded dumbly. His gaze was stuck on John's mouth and John's heart began to race because oh _God_, he'd never been going to let himself take this.

John swallowed. "What about subjectively?"

"Yeah," Rodney said. He sounded dazed. "That too."

"Rodney?" John started to ask but Rodney made a shushing sound, stopping him, before leaning in and kissing him.

"Uh, sorry," Rodney said, jerking back straight away. "I think I'm more drunk than I thought."

"Right," John said, stepping back. Rodney wasn't drunk but he was still saying no. "That's okay."

Rodney was looking at him carefully. "That was a lie," he said.

John shrugged. "It's still okay."

Rodney turned towards him and for a second all John saw were blue eyes and an off-centre smile and then he was being kissed by those half-curled lips, being kissed by Rodney, hard and not a little desperate, making soft noises in the back of his throat.

Rodney’s hands dropped to the small of John’s back, hot under his shirt and John rubbed his hands up and down Rodney’s side, feeling the dips of his waist and the flares of his hips. Rodney squirmed and he slid a leg between John’s. 

John gasped and ground down, suddenly way harder way faster than he’d anticipated this going. Rodney made a sound and then he was pulling at John’s shirt, shoving it up under his arms and running his hands all over John’s chest. 

It was fucking hot, but- “Wait, wait,” John panted. “Wait. Are we going to fast? Is this okay?”

Rodney blinked at him once, twice, and his expression cleared. Cleared and fell. “Oh,” he said, “The girl thing. I can’t believe I’d forgotten.” He shimmied his hips a little and made a disgusted face. “I miss my erection,” he said, and he looked so sad that John had to kiss him.

Rodney’s mouth opened easily under his again, but this time John was in control, could make the kisses slow and wet and easy, his favourite kind of kiss and John_really_ liked to kiss. 

They kissed until Rodney was limp and moving against John, hands petting gently at John’s chest. John smiled down at him and Rodney smiled back, soft and tentative. “You’re so hot,” Rodney said then blushed. Rodney’s blushes had always been cute, but now they were insanely, irrationally erotic and John couldn’t wait much longer, really wanted to touch.

He put his hand on Rodney’s breast, feeling it soft and warm and perfect through Rodney’s clothes.

Rodney twitched and gasped and pressed into John’s hand. 

“Too fast?” John asked, though he hoped he knew the answer.

Rodney rolled his eyes, shoved John back and stripped off his sweatshirt. It landed somewhere over the back of the couch, and he smirked even as he was unhooking his basic, practical bra, chucking that away too and standing there, totally bare from the waist up, big, creamy breasts and tiny pink nipples all there for John to see. 

“Well?” Rodney asked and there was a hitch in his voice but his eyebrows were raised in what John recognised as a challenge.

John reached out, rethought his plan of action and held out his hand. “Come to bed with me?” he asked.

Rodney’s breath caught. “I think I’ll blame my girly bits for just how unreasonably sexy that is,” he said, taking John’s hand and letting John lead him into the bedroom. His breasts were bouncing and John found it really hard to watch them and where he was going, but he managed it; the Air Force hadn’t trained no fool. 

They sat down on the edge of the bed and Rodney was kissing John before John had a chance to kiss him, which was fine with John, he’d always liked assertive women… people… he’d always liked Rodney.

They fell back onto the bed, Rodney’s hands running up and down his back, cupping his ass through his pants and making him groan, John stroking Rodney’s breasts, playing with the nipples, breaking away from kissing Rodney’s mouth to kiss down his sternum, making crazy patterns over Rodney’s ribs, shoulders, neck, breasts and belly. 

“Oh, _God_,” Rodney groaned, hands in John’s hair, petting him with a sort of frantic desperation while John licked around Rodney’s belly button and then down around the waistband of his pants. “Please, please go where I think you’re going. Please.”

John sat up, hands paused on the buttons of Rodney’s pants. “Sure?”

Rodney’s legs had sprawled apart and that was hot. “Do I seem unsure to you?” he demanded, “I’m lying here with my legs open like some cheap tart. On what planet does that constitute anything but sure, certain, gagging for it?”

John laughed. “Jeez, McKay, I was just checking.”

“Yes, well.” Rodney’s hips lifted as John started to tug his pants down and he sank back onto the bed with a sigh, legs spreading further when his pants ended up on the floor and John settled down between his legs. “Less checking, more, uh-”

“Licking?” John asked, touching his tongue to the crotch of Rodney’s black, sensible panties. 

“Yes please,” Rodney said weakly.

John curled his fingers in the top of Rodney’s panties and dragged them down and off, kissing the inside of Rodney’s thigh when he resettled himself. Rodney’s thighs were covered in soft, light-blond hairs, almost invisible, but John didn’t care. 

John reached up and gently stroked Rodney’s belly for a second, it quivered under his hand. “Hey, Rodney,” he said then went down on him.

Rodney swore, and moaned and writhed, legs wrapping around John’s shoulders, hands touching his hair, the backs of his ears, his nose, as John slid two fingers into Rodney and licked his clit over and over, working him until Rodney let out one long, strangled moan and came so hard John could almost feel it himself.

Rodney patted at John’s shoulders weakly, tugging him up. “Oh my god,” Rodney said when John obligingly lay down beside him, “Oh my _god_.”

“Good?” John asked, feeling just a little smug. 

Rodney narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get too complacent. That was the first orgasm this body’s ever had, you’ll have to work harder for the next one I’m sure.”

And just like that it hit John. He was the first person who’d touched Rodney like this, since whatever had happened to Rodney had happened. He wrapped his arms around Rodney and tugged him in, kissed him, tried to show him that that meant a lot to him without actually, you know, _saying_ it or anything.

When they broke for air, Rodney was blinking down at him. “Is that your way of telling me it’s my turn to reciprocate?” 

John laughed. “No, Rodney. In fact,” he smiled evilly, “Seeing as how that was your first, that was kind of a freebie.” He reached up and pinched Rodney’s nipple, guiding it down and into his mouth and, while Rodney was busy moaning over that, slid his other hand down between Rodney’s legs, seeking out and finding his clit again.

Rodney gasped and spread his legs, propping himself up over John and staring down at him with wide eyes. John smirked around the nipple he was teasing.

Rodney came hard and quickly that time, just like John had been planning, but John didn’t stop, just slid three slick fingers inside him and stretched his thumb to work Rodney’s clit. 

“What are you doing?” Rodney asked, voice high and breathless. “It’s not an on-off switch you know, it- Oh, yes, do that again.”

John was feeling pretty good about life by the time Rodney finally swatted him off. He was collapsed down into the sheets, more a Rodney-shaped puddle than an actual Rodney, hair everywhere, face pink and lips a dark, swollen red.

He slid his hands up John’s sweaty chest and cupped his face. “I should have known you’d be incredible,” he said, sounding half amazed and half accusing. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really think you should fuck me.”

John paused, his breath lodging somewhere in his chest. “I- I can do that?” he asked, because yeah, sure, he’d been feeling around down there and everything felt like it was supposed to, but Rodney had had a dick for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t be exactly woman-like, not totally.

“Of course you can,” Rodney said, seeming to think John was looking for reassurance not an explanation, and John mentally shrugged and thought why the hell not, Rodney had to know more about this shit than he did.

The condom box in his bedside drawer was almost full and nearing its expiry date. That was seriously depressing so John decided not to think about it, just rolled one on and took up position between Rodney’s legs.

Rodney was biting his lip, looking a little apprehensive, but his hands settled on John’s waist, warm and trusting and he didn’t say anything, just smiled slightly.

John took a deep breath and started to push inside. 

Rodney’s hands tightened on his hips. “Slow,” he said, voice sounding strained. “Slow.”

“Sure,” John promised, even though Rodney felt illegally good, all hot and wet and tight and it was only the way Rodney’s teeth were worrying his lip, the way his breath was getting harsher, that stopped John slamming home. 

“Ow,” Rodney said, softly like he wasn’t quite sure. Then louder, more definite, “_Ow_.” Then, “Wait. Why are you stopping?”

John gritted his teeth, half way in, frozen in place. “I’m _hurting_ you, Rodney,” John said tightly, and he could see it was true, that he was, and something clenched in his belly at the thought.

But Rodney only rolled his eyes. “Of course it hurts, I’m losing my virginity at the age of 39. Did I at any point tell you to stop?”

John grimaced, uncertain, but Rodney was pulling on his hips, finger nails sharply biting, so he pushed forward again, watching Rodney’s eyes get wider, watching him mouth one final, startled, _Ow_, before beginning to relax.

It reminded John of something, it reminded him of prom night to be exact and wow that was an experience he’d never wanted to relive. 

“Okay?” he asked, uncertainly.

“Yes,” Rodney said, then he shifted his hips around, clenching around John’s cock in a very distracting way. “Oh, _yes_.” He slapped John’s ass. “You should definitely fuck me now.” So John did.

***

Later, lying in the dark, Rodney was suspiciously quiet.

"Okay there?" John asked. He preferred asking personal questions when it was too dark to see the answers; it was about the only time he could ever get the words to come out right.

"I hate it here," Rodney said quietly. 

John felt cold and so stupid. Of course Rodney wouldn't stay longer than he had to. "Right."

"I know it’s stupid. I was born here, but it's not... it's not _right_. It's not right and I'm aware that I sound like a petulant child but I just want to go _home_." 

John frowned. "Canada?" Rodney had never talked about Canada with any kind of fondness that John could remember.

Rodney laughed. It sounded kind of wet and desperate and John reached for him, touched his shoulder and the delicate, sweaty rise of his throat. "No. No, home is... well, it's classified, but it sure as hell isn't Canada. It's nowhere near here at all."

"Okay," John said.

"It's not just the place," Rodney said, still quiet. "I mean, the city is beautiful but that's not the bit that makes it home. I have... friends, I suppose you'd call them. A team. Family. I don't know if you noticed, but at college you were basically the only person who really liked me. People like me where I live now. I don't want to lose that."

John couldn't think of anything to say. He'd lost every friend he'd ever had. Except Rodney, apparently. "I like you," he said then cursed himself at the pathetic dorkiness of it.

Rodney sighed. It was sad and almost wistful-sounding. "That's because I've turned out to be great in the sack," he said wryly. 

John opened his mouth to protest but Rodney's hand on his arm stopped him. 

“I could do with... someone at the moment. Don't tell me that string free sex doesn't sound appealing to you."

String free sex sounded excellent. The problem was that with Rodney it _wouldn't_ be string free. The strings would be endless and hopelessly tangled.

"John," Rodney said. Delicate, soft hands wrapped around John's wrist and John focused on that. That wasn't _really_ Rodney, just like Rodney didn't _really_ want John; it was okay, it would help John pretend. "John, I really need a friend."

John nodded even though Rodney couldn’t see him. “Okay,” he said and rearranged their hands so he could squeeze Rodney’s back. “Yeah, okay.”

***

On the morning of the sixth day of Rodney’s visit, John woke up to a hand on his cock and something wet near his ass. 

He twitched and Rodney’s head popped up from between his legs. “Morning,” he said, squeezing John’s cock.

“Mo- morning,” John managed. “What were you doing?” He waved in the vague direction of _down there_.

Rodney grinned. “Rimming you, or at least trying to, it’s surprisingly difficult when the other person is asleep and lying on their back.”

John had sort of momentarily blacked out on the first word so for a second it was kind of hard to form anything coherent as a reply. “Rimming?” he choked out.

Rodney frowned. “Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh really you need to let go of this heterocentric view you have of sex.” He slapped John’s thigh. “Roll over.”

John obliged (because God, _rimming_) and thought he really would have to disabuse Rodney of the weird picture he seemed to have gotten into his head about John’s sexual experiences. Just not, uh, just not yet, he decided and spread his legs wider.

After the rimming (oh, man, the rimming), Rodney wanted to do sixty-nines (apparently the theme for this morning’s sex was tongues, which John was more than okay with) and after that John honestly could not get it up again without Viagra (which _no_, no matter how interested Rodney looked at that idea) so they collapsed into a sweaty heap in the middle of the bed, kissing and touching softly, distractedly.

They were still lying there, getting their breath back, when John's doorbell rang.

John frowned at the sound, wondering if he'd imagined it. Except for pizza delivery guys, _no one_ rang his bell. For most of the time, he was only theoretically aware that he had one. 

"Nrgh," Rodney groaned. "Ignore it. It'll be someone annoying."

"Yeah," John agreed but climbed out of bed and pulled on some clothes.

There was a small man with wiry hair, a laptop bag and, for some reason, a pair of pliers, standing on John's doorstep. 

"Oh," he said, blinking. He had a soft kind of accent. "I'm sorry. I think I have the wrong door."

"Sure," John said and made to shut the door again, except Rodney's voice from behind stopped him.

"Radek?" he called. "Radek is that you?" Rodney came stumbling out of the bedroom; he’d pulled on a pair of John’s boxers but had apparently forgotten the need for a shirt. The guy (Radek?) shrieked and threw up his hands. Even John was shocked; turned on, but shocked.

"Rodney," Radek scolded, "My _God_."

"Oh suck it up," Rodney snapped but his cheeks were turning pink. He bent down and picked up one of John's hoodies, tugging it on. "Have you done it?"

Radek bounced a little in place. "It's done."

Rodney slumped back against the wall. "Thank God."

John looked back and forth then back then forth again between them. "What's going on?"

"Oh," Rodney said. He crossed the room to John and Radek and there was a definite spring in his step. "John this is Radek we work together, Radek this is John we... uh."

"Sleep together," Radek said with a shrug. 

John spluttered but not as loud as Rodney. Radek shushed them both. He set his laptop case down on the table and started pulling things out.

"Wait," Rodney said. "You brought it here? They let you?"

Radek shrugged again. "Let is maybe the wrong word. But chances were not good of getting you back to Colorado so I thought I would bring the solution to you." He patted the case. "It's impressive that I was able to make it so portable, yes?"

"Okay," John said. Feeling lost wasn't exactly a novelty lately, but this was getting ridiculous. "What's going on?"

"I am going to fix Rodney," Radek told him, plugging some wires into a small silver disk.

"Rodney doesn't need fixing," John said automatically then avoided Rodney's eye.

Radek snorted. "That is a matter of opinion. Where is Carson?" he asked. "You would prefer if I tested this on him, I presume?" He patted his thigh. "Here kitty," he said then giggled. Rodney worked with strange people.

After a minute, Carson appeared from the kitchen, tail swishing madly. "Well hello," Radek said. John thought he sounded almost fond. "Up on the table, please."

The cat jumped up obediently and John was impressed; it hadn't done one thing he'd told it to.

Radek fiddled with a couple of knobs on the... thing he'd put together while John was watching. He held it near the cat and it started to glow.

Now was the time for John to say _what?_ again but before he could, a blue laser shot out from the silver device, blindingly bright and, by the time John finished blinking, something had happened. 

John stared, horrified, at the brown-haired man standing naked in the middle of his living room. “Oh my _God_,” he said, covering his eyes with both hands. "What's going on?"

There was silence for a minute then Rodney said, "This is Carson." He sounded about as hesitant as Rodney ever sounded. "We work together too."

John peeked over the tops of his fingers. There was still a naked man standing in the middle of his living room where Rodney's cat used to be. "You're Rodney's cat?" he asked cautiously. It was possible he was having some kind of aneurism. Comparatively, that sounded kind of fun.

The naked man nodded. Radek helpfully passed him a tea-towel so he was a little less naked. "Afraid so, lad."

John took a breath. It didn't help. “You people are insane. I let you sleep on my bed. I let you-” He spun around to face Rodney. “_That’s_ why you always kicked him out of the bedroom before we, uh.”

“Before you engaged in more sexual intercourse than I knew was possible for a man of your age?” Carson supplied helpfully. “Really John, you might be a medical marvel.” 

In about ten seconds, John was going to punch the shit out of some unsuspecting wall. "McKay," he grated.

"Right," Rodney said hurriedly. "Right, yes. Explanation. You need one of those. Um." He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. "Is it okay if I get my body back first?"

John scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sure,” he said tiredly. He reached down and picked Radek’s silver device off the coffee table. “You need this?” he asked, making to pass it over. It lit up suddenly, glowing a brighter blue than it had when Radek had held it near the cat… had held it near _Carson_. “The fuck?” he asked. He thought he sounded impressively calm considering the fact that it had started to vibrate faintly under his fingers and he sure as hell hadn’t touched any switches.

No one answered, so he looked up. The three men in the room were staring at him like he’d grown an extra head; considering how one of them was a woman and another had just finished being a cat, he thought they had some nerve.

“Wow,” Rodney said faintly. “I’m so glad I came to you.”

***

There were times when John wished he smoked, times like now when he was sitting on his fire escape, staring moodily out into the hazy afternoon.

Rodney was inside talking to Radek (Zelenka, apparently. Doctor of engineering) and Carson (Beckett, MD). Rodney had a penis again now and John had learned some things: the zappy silver device was tens of thousands of years old and from another planet. Oh and yeah John apparently had some freaky gene that meant he was descended from _aliens_.

John was having an interesting day.

He was doing his best not to mope but it was hard. He'd known, deep down, that this wasn't going to last, but finding out that everything Rodney had said about his sex change being accidental and reversible had been true felt like a slap in the face. None of this had been real; Rodney had just been biding his time until he got his real life back.

There was a nervous cough from behind him and John froze. Shit, John thought, here it comes. “I, uh," Rodney said. "I wanted to thank you.”

John frowned out into the distance. Rodney as a guy looked nothing like he had when they were twenty but it was definitely possible to see where the woman he'd been had come from. John didn't want to look. “What for?”

“For the last few days, taking me in and uh, the other stuff; you’ve been a good friend and I was hoping that maybe, that maybe now we’re back in touch we could stay in touch. Maybe?”

Something deep in John’s chest was breaking. “Sure, buddy,” he said. 

Rodney smiled slightly, “Good,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy.

“What’s up?” John asked, wincing. “I thought you’d be over the moon, you got your life back, right?”

"Of course I’m happy to be back, don’t be stupid," Rodney snapped.

"So, why the long face?" John still wasn't looking at Rodney, but he'd gotten good at reading Rodney's voice and it sounded all wrong.

"Because," Rodney said. He sounded so defeated that John started to turn towards him. "Can you not," Rodney asked quickly. "This will be easier to say without you looking at me. I'm happy to be going back, obviously, but I'm not because I like you. I’ve liked you since my sophomore year so excuse me if I want to take a few minutes to lament how I finally got you only to have to give you up."

John’s heart flipped over in his chest. “Rodney,” he said. He got to his feet and turned to face Rodney. "What?"

Rodney made a face. His jaw was square and firm, lightly stubbled and John wanted to touch. "Right, like you didn't know. Your ROTC buddies thought it was hilarious."

John just shook his head, trying to make this make sense. "I swear to God I didn't know. Rodney, I. You don’t have to give me up.”

Rodney frowned. "You’re straight." 

John shifted. "Well. Kind of."

"Kind of?" Rodney spluttered. "You slept with me. What was I? Oh my God, was I your beard?"

John caught his flailing hands. "Rodney. Seriously. _No_. I’ve always found it hard to choose. I mean, women have breasts."

"I did have great breasts," Rodney agreed dreamily.

"But guys have dicks and those are-" He broke off because Rodney had suddenly made a squawking noise and dashed back into the apartment. By the time John got to the bedroom (with a confused wave to Radek and Carson who were sitting on John's sofa, looking bemused) Rodney’s pants had been discarded and he was standing in the middle of the room, bare from the waist down, cradling his dick lovingly. It was curled up in his palm, small and vulnerable-looking as if embarrassed by the attention.

John was struck by a wave of protectiveness so strong that he had no idea what to do with it.

"I got my penis back," Rodney whispered when John stepped up to him. His eyes were huge and shining and John couldn’t find it in himself to tease.

"Yeah," he said, curling his own hand around Rodney’s and Rodney’s cock. "Yeah, you did."

Rodney tipped his face up to John’s. “And you’re uh, you’re really okay with it? The penis thing?”

In answer, John ran his fingers over Rodney’s balls. They tightened under his touch and Rodney winced. “Sensitive,” he said apologetically. “New.”

John nodded. He put his hand on Rodney's hip and wondered where they went from here.

"You could kiss me, instead," Rodney suggested and yeah, John could do that.

***

The next hour of John's life was spent running around his apartment, helping Rodney pack up his shit. Apparently Rodney was someone very important back where he worked (Atlantis, Rodney's voice in his brain reminded him, sounding as fond and as reverent as Rodney had when he'd finally told John about it), which was no surprise and he was going to be picked up as soon as possible. By spaceship. That bit was kind of surprising. 

"What are you doing?" Rodney asked, from the doorway of John's bedroom. "You're not packed."

John looked up at him. "What?"

"Right," Rodney snorted. "Like I'm leaving you behind."

John looked up from where he was packing Rodney's bras and girlie clothes and shoes, all ready to be shipped off to Goodwill like this had never happened. "What?" he asked again.

Rodney waved his hands around in a way that obviously meant something to him if not to John. "I changed genders on you twice and you barely blinked. You think I'm losing someone like that?"

"Rodney, I don't-"

"Oh please." Rodney rolled his eyes. "What have you got to keep you here? You work a shitty job that you hate and maybe you're hiding a really rocking social life from me, but as far as I remember your phone hasn't rung once since I got here. You don't have anything here, John."

That stung. It was true, sure, but it still stung. "Fuck you," John said calmly.

Rodney gaped at John for a minute then his eyes fell. "Right," he said, nodding at the carpet. "That was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry. But I know you, John, I know you're not happy.” Rodney dropped down onto his knees in front of John and his expression went open and sympathetic. His face, his voice, even his hands on John's thighs were gentle. "You don't belong here any more than I do. You're amazing and they can't see it. But I, I swear that if you come to Atlantis, you'll love it. And I'll. It. _It_ will love you."

John swallowed. It couldn't be that easy, it couldn't. Whole new lives didn't just get handed to you like this, not when you were a fucked up, forty year old, screw-up like John.

"Okay," he said roughly.

Rodney's face exploded into sunlight and John couldn't help copying it, laughing just a little. 

"Okay," Rodney echoed and kissed him. "Yes, perfect, excellent. Come to Atlantis with me."

/End


End file.
